Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2004 15:09:50 +0000
From: Maddy <madi_mcfarland@hotmail.com>
Subject: Orli, Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not know Orlando Bloom or any other celebrities who may or
may not appear in this story. It's a work of fiction, that I made up.
Although, my birthday is the same day as Orlando's. I don't know how that
affects anything, but I just like to tell people. I have no idea of
Orlando's sexuality, but this story is not implying anything about it.
Again, I say, FICTION.

This story isn't going to be all sexy, all the time. It'll probably get
steamy, but you'll have to give it a while. It's like soup. It needs to
simmer before it can boil. However, any eroticness you do read, is going to
be homosexual man-on-man action, so if you're under 21, 18 or however the
hell old you have to be where you are, go and have a sandwich. If the
thought of guys doing 'stuff' offends you, you might want to go and have a
snack also.

Well, I think that's about it. Oh, no, hang about. If you steal my story I
will be very angry. E-Mail me before you post it anywhere else, or ooh, I'll
be cross.

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Previously . . .

The shock echoed through my brain, rolled around in my eyes, thundered down
into my stomach and churned that all up, bounced around my legs for a minute
and jarred into my feet, which took a second to try and regain some control,
gave up the ghost and covered their eyes as they did some kind of drunken
Irish jig and sent me careening into the seats. As I fell very-nearly
face-forward (thank you, elbows) onto the seats, the face that had made my
body literally fold over registered with my brain and I got a big, honking
name in my head.

Shit.

My celebrity co-star was Orlando Bloom.

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ORLI

Chapter Two

'Oh! Matty, are you all right?' Nina, being lovely and caring. Ah, Nina. My
very best friend in the whole of the play. Which, admittedly, only has five
parts.

'SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE! HE'S DEAD! MY ACTOR IS DEAD!' Clea, being a big
bundle of neuroses and shouting. Her two favourite pastimes.

'Clea, shush, he just fell over. He's Matty. He does this all the time.'
Grr. Natasha. Being all bitchy, as per. Like it makes a difference I'm
always falling over? It doesn't make this one all boring and unspecial.

In fact, it was so much more special since Orlando Bloom was watching.
Nestling my face in the back of the chair I'd fallen into (mm, minty fresh)
I realised that he wasn't saying anything. Well, he was probably laughing at
me. Great. A world-famous superstar, the guy playing my brother in Clea's
play, and I'd fallen over in front of him. Within seconds of meeting him.
This is what happens when nobody warns people they're about to meet a
celebrity.

'Why isn't he moving?' I heard Nina's voice, still no closer.

I suddenly realised that I'd been having this monologue in my head
real-time, and that it had been nearly a minute since I'd fallen over,
making it look a bit like I legitimately had some kind of a condition. I
quickly weighed up whether I'd rather be taken to hospital with an asthmatic
problem or embarrass myself in front of Orlando. Before I had chance to make
up my mind, I was hauled backwards, a hand gripping the left side of my
chest and pulling me up before another reached round and stood me upright.

'Thank you,' I said graciously, then promptly had to sit on the edge of the
seat I'd just been smushing when I realised it was Orlando himself.

*OhmigodhejusttouchedmeinthechestIfeelsowarmandtingly.*

I was so going to have to get over this whole
'fall-apart-at-the-first-sight-of-Orlando' issue.

'You OK now?' asked Orlando, tilting my head up and looking into my eyes,
checking I was focusing, I guess.

Now what I really wanted to say was 'homina homina', but that wouldn't have
looked very professional so I said, 'Oh, yeah, sorry about that, I sort of
lost my footing and then I thought I saw some coins down the back of the
chair but then it turned out to be some kind of sweet wrapper, which-which
is weird because they don't normally allow food in the auditorium, I-I guess
I wasn't thinking straight.'

'Well, you know, nuzzling a chair. Not good for the brain,' he grinned at
me. 'There's certainly better things you can nuzzle.'

'Orlando, Matty. Matty, Orlando, it's a pleasure for the two of you, I'm
sure,' said Clea, barging up while I tried to figure out whether Orlando was
actually flirting with me or whether he was just being friendly. The common
sense in the far recesses of my brain weakly bonked me with a hammer in an
attempt to bring me back to reality: in which Orlando was straight and I was
a man. Damn my penis!

The rest of the cast (the aforementioned Nina and Natasha, and also the
third girl who played Orlando's character's girlfriend, a sweet girl by the
name of Katie, who as far as I knew only spoke when she was in character)
came strolling up, having spent the entire period of my
embedded-in-chairness worrying about me from afar as opposed to actually
helping me. I threw them a look that may have conveyed either this or
extreme bladder pain, I'm not sure because my looks invariably come out
wrong and invoke embarrassing conversations.

'Now, because Orlando is a STAR,' dribbled Clea, 'he's already learnt his
lines and knows most of the directions, so all we're going to have to do
over the next few weeks is to fit him in with the rest of you and make sure
your interactions are all smooth, kay? Since he's gone to the trouble of
learning his lines, the rest of you' - here she coughed loudly while
repeating the word 'Matty' over and over again, which I didn't think was
very fair as, OK, I knew about half my lines, but hey! That was half more
than I knew before I'd started! - 'could do well to catch up, hmm? There's
no rehearsal today' - blatant speaking-over of my protestations at
aforementioned coughing incident - 'but I just wanted Orlando to put faces
to names. Nina, Natasha, Katie, you can go, Matty, I want to speak to you
and Orlando for a moment.'

The girls left, Nina flashing me the 'call you' sign as she went, and I
turned to face Clea. 'OK, I'm really sorry I'm late, I'll pay if the seat is
damaged, I'm going to learn all my lines, that's a beautiful scarf, and I'm
sorry if I forgot to say sorry for anything. Sorry.'

Clea looked slightly nervy. 'Matty! Darling! Why would I say anything about
that? You know how laidback I am! Darling! Ahahahahaha!' Translation: Don't
let Orlando know I'm a fucking bitch or I will fucking fire you till you
can't remember your fucking name, you fuck. 'No, I just wanted you to know
there's been a couple of mild alterations to the way we're going to be
working.'

'Oh, OK. Will the rehearsal times change? Because, you know, I have that
whole other thing . . .'

'Oh, no, no, honey, don't you worry about that, I'm just, you know, working
around it because that's the kind of girl I am!' This last sentence was
practically shouted into Orlando's left nostril. 'No, rehearsal times aren't
changing. Just . . . You remember that in the play you and Orlando are
brothers who have spent most of your adult lives together?'

'Yes . . .' I said slowly, unsure of where this was going and made really
uneasy by the way Clea's eyes appeared to be spinning round and round
INDEPENDENTLY OF EACH OTHER.

'Well, to adequately represent that I think it would be a good idea if you
share your dressing room with Orlando. It's big enough and that way you'll
really get an idea of how it feels to be in each other's faces all the time.
OK?'

Well, it wasn't OK, because he was gorgeous and we were going to be spending
a whole lot of time together anyway, and now I was probably going to see him
without his clothes on, which was a) utterly bloody brilliant because he was
gorgeous and b) utterly bloody awful because he was gorgeous!

I didn't say this, though. I said, 'Oh, yeah, that's faboo.' Dear Lord, did
you just say 'faboo'? Somebody pass me some kind of gagging implement.

'Excellent,' she smiled, and turned to walk away. 'Oh, and you're moving
into his hotel. You'll be in adjoining rooms, and I want you two' - she
wiggled her fingers between us, in case I thought she meant me and my
newly-infatuated chair - 'to spend as much time as possible together. Kay?'

'Sure.' And one . . . two . . . three . . . 'Whoa! What?!' Ah, my brain.
Give it a second or two and it'll absorb pretty much anything. 'Hang on!
Clea! What? Whoa! Clea!'

'Is this sentence going to end soon, or should I wait till we hit the eye of
the storm?' Clea asked drily, throwing Orlando an 'isn't he a trial?' Look.

'OK, Clea, not that I'm complaining but -'

'Matty, I really want you and Orlando to be like brothers on stage.
Therefore, you have to spend a lot of time together, I want this to look
NATURAL. This is very important to me, I'm the writer and I just want to be
happy with the finished product! Don't you?' Translation: If you don't do
this for me, you giant fuckwit who should think himself lucky he's IN my
fucking play, I will fucking fire you.

'Of course I do, Clea. If you think this is best, then sure, I will move
into the hotel. It's not like I couldn't do with the company.' Translation:
Please don't fire me please don't fire me that's a beautiful scarf please
don't fire me.

Oh, crap, and I've already paid this month's rent.

'Excellent. Then it's settled.'

*******************************

'Sorry I'm causing you such a shitload of trouble,' said Orlando as the car
pulled away from the theatre and headed off towards the hotel, I guessed.

'What? Oh! The whole moving thing . . .' I internally chastised myself for
being such a dick. 'I'm sorry about that in there . . . I should've spoken
to Clea privately - it's truly, honestly not a problem.'

'Well, you just reacted honestly to some pretty big news, which, you know,
is not something to be ashamed of.'

'Doesn't matter how I felt about it, it's generally not the done thing to
talk about how much you don't want a semi-roommate when the guy is standing
not two feet away,' I said with an apologetic grin. 'I really am sorry about
that. And seriously, it's fine, I was getting bored of that place anyway,
and as long as you don't, like, have any particular issues with my generally
being a one-man destructive force, this should be great!' He smiled as I
reached out and took his hand, shaking it firmly and hoping he didn't sense
any gayness off it. While the image of a bloodhound sniffing delinquents for
drugs wriggled about in my head, a sudden thought stuck me. 'Oh, can we just
stop by my place first? I've got, like, my life there.'

He stared at me. 'No, that life is dead now.' He waited just long enough for
me to get my itchy panic-feeling in the front of my nose, then laughed and
slapped me on the shoulder. 'Course we can, you dolt, we're already going
there. What, like you think you'd be living out of my travelling wardrobe?'

'Not like you can't afford it.'

He laughed, and I joined in. Actually, he seemed like a pretty nice guy.
This might be fun.

*******************************

We managed to get into my apartment, with only the minor issue of my walking
into the elevator door because of staring at the little girl who was
watching Orlando pass with an awestruck expression on her face. I realised
as I got in that I hadn't peed since the morning, and told Orlando to make
himself at home while I took care of business.

While I was peeing, a sudden thought raced through my head: DEAR GOD I'M
GOING TO BE LIVING WITH ORLANDO BLOOM! Hotel or not, this was still a huge
deal and at some point I was going to have to process everything. But not
now. Now I needed to pack. If I was going to be spending time with Orlando
Bloom, I was sure as hell gonna do it pretty. I swung the bathroom door
open, and saw Orlando staring into my bedroom. The words 'rabbit' and
'headlights' crashed into my head.

'Er . . . Matty?'

'Yes?'

'Why is there a naked man lying on your bed?'

To Be Continued.

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I am an author and live on feedback. It's like Dairylea to me. Tell me what
you think! I'm also not averse to including storylines you might want to
see. Bribes are welcome.

madi_mcfarland@hotmail.com